


The More Things Change...

by alleinimmer



Series: How Did We Get Here? [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Endgame never happened, Hurt/Comfort, Infinity War never happened, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Violence, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Swearing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Trigger Warning!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22511998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alleinimmer/pseuds/alleinimmer
Summary: As much as it kills Tony, Peter's growing up.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: How Did We Get Here? [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1421836
Comments: 7
Kudos: 124





	The More Things Change...

**Author's Note:**

> ...the more they stay the same.
> 
> Alright, guys, this is it! The conclusion to my series. Hope you guys like it!

It was late. Much later than Tony had planned on being up, and far too late for him to be doing anything productive now, if the aching pull around his eyes and the pounding in his skull was anything to go by. But as exhausted as he was, and as much as Tony wanted to, he knew there was no way he’d be sleeping tonight. 

Not yet, anyway. Instead, Tony stood staring out over the city, ignoring the bots as they whirred softly behind him and listening to the symphony of wailing police sirens that echoed across the city. If he angled himself just right, he thought he could just make out the distant, flashing red and blue lights as they sped with rabid ferocity through the haze of Manhattan's blazing neon glow. And somewhere out there, he knew, leading the cavalry charge, was Peter. 

Tony sighed and drained the last of his lukewarm coffee, grimacing as he swallowed it down and his headache pulsed in return. 

Armed robbery in the diamond district. Shots fired, no reported casualties. Suspects fleeing north, in a stolen vehicle. Spider-Man in pursuit. That’s what FRIDAY had been able to pick up over the police scanners an hour earlier. No word from Karen about any unusual spikes in Peter’s vital readings and no mention of alien tech, illegal arms, or enhanced criminals. Just a good old-fashioned grab-and-dash, the kind of thing that you were hearing less and less about each passing day, and hardly anything worth worrying over. Hardly worth even mentioning at all, really, considering everything Peter had faced dozens of times before. Things he had walked away from with scratches at best and broken bones at worst. Compared to some of the things Peter had seen and done before, this was nothing. Still...

“It never gets easier, these nights.” 

That’s what May had told him once. God, it felt like a lifetime ago since she had said that, but it was a moment he knew he would never forget. 

It was the night that Peter had finally gone out as Spider-Man for the first time since getting shot. After the incident at the deli, when they’d been swarmed by paparazzi, and the Parkers had been advised not to leave their apartment for three days while Pepper and her legal team sorted it out. May had been furious with him, not only because of the danger he’d put Peter in, but because it had only been a personal phone call to May’s boss that had saved her from losing her job (though no amount of arguing on Tony’s part could convince the prick that she deserved paid time off). And Tony got it - on the one hand, it was Tony’s fault she was losing three days of money (and that they were even in the situation to begin with), and yet she was indebted to him for saving her from losing her job completely. Between that and the fact that Peter had become damn near insufferable with cabin fever by the time they had managed to smooth everything out, May had been ready to kill him. Which she had no problem letting him know. And granted, it wasn’t anything new, or even undeserved...but it still wasn’t exactly what Tony would consider an enjoyable circumstance. 

And even so, May had been worried about Peter going out for the first time in two weeks, and she hadn’t wanted to wait up for him alone. And Tony, thinking it was the least he could do, despite knowing that he was probably the last person she wanted to be with, had been surprised when she accepted his offer to wait with her. So, he had spent the night beside May on her beat-up little couch, nursing a beer he was fairly certain she had spat in, the two of them not saying a single word to one another as they pretended to watch the news, stiff and anxious, waiting for Peter to come home. At one point he had mentioned, half-jokingly, that he couldn’t wait for the day when this all finally became “easier”, to which May had offered him the singular, hard truth. 

“It never gets easier, these nights.” 

It always amazed Tony, the things he remembered best, the memories with the sharpest edges. Not the big things, but the little ones, the things that should not have made such a lasting impact on him but somehow still did. Hearing May say that, turning to see her face, splashed blue from the light of the TV in front of them, the sad little smile on her face and the faraway look in her eyes, had been the moment it finally hit him. The moment he looked over and caught sight of that knowing, haunted look on May’s face, was the moment he realized how many times over the years she must have sat up waiting for her husband to come home, never knowing where he was or what he was doing. Not having a single clue if whether or not she’d be a widow come morning. Over and over again, for years and years she had done this, until that awful night finally came and Ben Parker never made it home. And now she was doing the same with Peter. 

And now he was doing the same with Peter.

Everything was so different back then. They were so different then. And Tony often found himself marveling at those times in the spare moments between boardroom meetings and tinkering in the lab, in the moments before missions, watching Peter square his own shoulders and the moments after, when he sat exhausted and leaning against Tony’s. He thought about who they were all the time. Thought about the times when he still truly believed there’d come a time when he’d finally stop worrying about Peter. That there would be one, defining moment where Peter would finally prove to Tony once and for all that no matter what happened, he’d be okay. That he’d find a way to make it home to them, no matter what. 

...That he didn’t need Tony anymore...

But like had May said: it didn’t get easier. No matter how many times Peter had proven himself again and again and again, Tony still worried. Still wondered if there wasn’t something he could improve on Peter’s suit. Still paced anxiously when Peter didn’t text him back immediately. Still tossed restlessly through the nights he knew Peter was swinging wildly through alone, dodging bullets and baiting murderers, and wondering if he’d see him again the next morning. Tony sighed and looked down at his stained, empty mug. Maybe the coffee was just making his headache worse. 

Sighing, he set the cup aside and rubbed his temples tiredly, ignoring the black spots that danced across his vision. If he said it once, he’d say it a thousand more times. That damn kid would be the death of him. 

“Boss.” FRIDAY announced suddenly. “I thought you’d like to know that Mr. Parker’s home.” 

“What?” Tony sputtered up at her, whipping around to glare at one of her sensors. “Why didn’t you tell me he was on his way back?”

“Because he’s disabled the ‘Tattletale Protocol’.” She answered smartly. “Again.” 

“And why am I just now hearing about this?” Tony growled at her, making a beeline for the elevator. “You’re supposed to tell me the second he tries to turn it off!”

“As per the ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell Protocol’ that Mister Parker installed last week, I’m not required to tell you about any modifications he’s made to the suit unless you specifically ask me.”

“‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell Protocol’?” Tony echoed, raising a brow. 

“I believe he was originally planning on calling it the ‘Snitches Get Stitches Protocol’.” 

“Of course he was. And just where is the little shit now?”

“He’s in his bedroom, sir.” 

“Take me up.” 

“Right away.” 

\-------------

The light was still shining from under the crack of Peter’s door when Tony reached it. For a moment, he waited, wondering if Peter was still awake and whether he should risk making sure. It was almost four in the morning, after all. After another moment passed, he knocked gently on the door. 

“Peter?” He called softly. 

No answer. 

Hesitantly, he pushed it open, wincing at the faint squeal that followed before poking his head through the door, not knowing what to expect but expecting the worst, nonetheless…  
Instead, he found Peter sprawled out across his bed, fast asleep. 

He was dressed in his ratty Hello Kitty pants and one of his old Decathlon tee shirts, the letters faded and peeling to the point that the only reason Tony even recognized it was because he’d personally watched it decay with time. Peter’s suit was lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of his bed, folded on itself under the footboard, as though it had fallen off from it. And not far from Peter’s dangling fingers was his crumpled mask. 

Biting back a fond smile, Tony quickly retrieved the suit and mask and set them aside on Peter’s desk before bringing the chair over by the bed and sinking into it, studying Peter as he slept. Somehow, the kid was dead asleep and still managed to look exhausted. How that was possible, Tony had no idea, but he wondered vaguely if that was what he usually looked like, and why everyone was always making such a big deal when he went for several days without sleep. He shook his head, eyes roving over Peter’s slackened face, memorizing the black, bruise-like circles under his eyes, the flushed cheeks, the way his sweaty hair curled behind his ears. God, it felt like he was seeing his kid for the first time in years. 

Ever since the incident with the Parasite (Venom, as the kid always referred to It), Peter had been...well...Peter was never the same, after that. Not completely, anyway. 

For a long time, Tony had been worried that Peter would never recover from what that Thing had done to him. For the first week after It had finally separated from Peter, the boy had barely said a word. Had just laid there listlessly, staring at absolutely nothing at all while Tony and May had tried their damndest to get him to talk. To say something. Anything. Anything at all. And eventually, he did.   
But even after he eventually began speaking again (from single worded whispers a few times that first week to a few halting sentences the next) and had healed from the damage (from a few reluctant steps to a handful of halting strides at a time), he was still different. For a long time, Peter had refused to laugh, much less smile. He had retreated into himself, often disappearing for hours on end (sometimes in his room, sometimes somewhere into the city), without a word of warning to either Tony or May, ignoring their various texts and calls and eventually drifting back into the fold as though nothing had happened at all. 

And if that hadn’t been enough to scare the hell out of Tony, it was how Spider-Man had changed that sent him damn near over the edge of sanity.

Peter had thrown himself back into the role of Queen’s iconic protector with such ferocity and devotion that Tony hadn’t once thought possible. He’d started cutting school. Stopped coming by the Tower. Stopped coming home for dinner. Stopped coming home at all. And the criminals that Spider-Man apprehended had become bloodier and bloodier as time went on. Those first few months were some of the roughest Tony had ever dealt with, between late night phone calls from May, begging him to bring Peter home to screaming matches with Peter, who had hurled curses at him and May like daggers, tears streaming down his face as he shouted that he hated them, and they couldn’t stop him. 

That they didn’t understand what had happened to him and they never could. 

It went on, back and forth, for weeks and eventually into months. Tony took the suit away and Peter went out anyway. When he narrowly dodged bullets in his stupid ass pajama set, Tony had caved and given him back the suit. When Tony incorporated various new trackers and protocols within the suit to try to reign him in, Peter found them all and shut them down swiftly and unapologetically. And when Tony realized what Peter had done, he found new ways to remotely install better models of the old systems, and even better ways to hide them. Tony often wondered what the US government would think if they knew that the various equipment and software programs he had sold to the CIA a year ago had actually been inspired by his various trial-and-error runs with a stubborn, irresponsible, teenage vigilante from Queens. 

But of course, it was all destined to come crashing down, eventually. 

That was another night Tony would never forget. He had been working on the latest Starkphone model upgrades, when FRIDAY had called out suddenly.

“Boss.” She’d said, and there was something in her tone that immediately set Tony on edge. “There seems to be a...problem with Mister Parker, Sir.”

Tony had growled, refusing to look up from the holographic projection before him. “His suit go offline again?”

“Yes.”

“Well, start working to get it up again.”

“I’m trying.” She had told him, frustration bleeding into her vaguely robotic voice. “But I can’t seem to access it.”

“Why’d he turn it off?” Tony had then asked her. “He didn’t get hurt did he?”

“No.”

“He finally get himself arrested?”

“No.”

“So, what doesn’t he want me to know?” Tony asked her musingly. “Where exactly was he before he went dark?”

“The last reading placed Mr. Parker on the south-west corner of Central Park.”

“Okay. And do we have any video or audio feed? Something that would tell us what he was doing?”

“Before Mr. Parker switched off the tracking system, he was attempting to stop a rape.”

That gave Tony pause. “A rape?”

“Yes.”

Tony’s fingers drummed the tabletop. FRIDAY knew something. Something bad. 

“You said he ‘attempted’ to stop a rape.” Tony continued after a moment, switching his focus to the projected map from Karen’s log. “What does that mean? ”

FRIDAY had hesitated, and Tony’s heart sunk.

“Mr. Parker was able to stop the rape from occurring.”

“Okay.” Tony said slowly. He wasn’t sure why she was being so cagey with the details. Or why she had phrased it the way she did. “What, does he not want me to know he’d escorting the creep to the police station?”

“Mr. Parker isn’t escorting the offender to the police station.”

“He’s not?” Tony asked her, mildly surprised. “Why?”

“...Because Mr. Parker killed him, Sir.” 

Tony had spent several caffeine-fueled hours spitting curses as he frantically tried to get Peter’s trackers back online again. He’d called May, Happy, and even Ned, but no one had heard from him in hours. No one knew where he was. And none of them had any idea what had happened either. And when he finally managed to turn the damn thing back on, he had been terrified to realize exactly where Peter was. 

Expecting the worse, he’d arrived at Ben Parker’s grave to find Peter curled up against it, just as the sun was beginning to ascend over the horizon, the sky a brilliant, burning red. 

“I’m sorry.” Peter had croaked as Tony lowered himself beside him, refusing to look at him. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony had sighed. “Yeah, kid. I know.” He’d assured him. 

“I didn’t mean it.” Peter told him, tears streaming silently down as face. “I swear I didn’t mean to. I-I lost control. It was an accident.”

“I know.”

And though things had gotten better since then, they were never quite the same. If Tony was being honest with himself, he knew they would never be the same. Peter would never be the same. Could never be the same. The great price of indoctrinating Peter to this life, the cruel fate that had always hovered sinisterly over them and finally come to collect. 

And while Peter had gone back to school and had started adhering to Tony and May’s rules again, and though he had stopped fighting so recklessly, he was quiet. The constant, stream-of-conscious ramblings that had once driven Tony crazy had all but stopped. Now, Tony would have done anything to get it back. To see a glimmer of who Peter used to be. He was slower to laugh now too, his smile no longer wide and careless, joy leaking from the crinkles of his eyes, but a small flicker, a quirk of his lips that was gone even as it came. And his devotion to Spider-Man and Queens, though not nearly as frenzied and manic as it was, was still different than it had been before. Peter was...older now. Wiser, now. Every now and then, when Peter thought he wasn’t looking and his mask slipped, his thousand yard stare gazing out across the way, it broke Tony’s heart just a little more. It killed Tony to know he had been forced to grow up so quickly when he wasn’t ready. Especially because it was Tony’s fault. 

Still, there was no denying that it was Peter’s devotion that had made him the best of all of them. And while the kid still threw himself headfirst into danger (Tony highly doubted that would ever change), it wasn’t the same as it was before. He had grown so much from that naive fourteen-year-old kid Tony had accidentally stumbled upon. Now Peter watched. He waited. He planned. And over the past two years, he had proven himself time and time again. And as much as Tony fought Cap or Fury every time they so much as suggested sending the kid on solo missions, in the end if was inevitable. Peter was a force. He was the future. Spider-Man was the future. But his future, his purpose, was deeply rooted in New York. And it was becoming more and more obvious with each passing day. 

He could remember the day Peter told him he was going to NYU like it was yesterday. He remembered getting so angry upon learning that Peter was turning down the chance to study at MIT, convinced that the kid was throwing away the best opportunity that the universe ever offered him. 

“What do you mean you’re going to NYU?!” He had snapped when Peter showed him his acceptance letter. The kid hadn’t missed a beat, chuckling at him as he brandished it under his nose. 

“What’s wrong, Mr. Stark? You have an issue with state colleges?”

“NYU?! Are you kidding me?! Kid, what the hell happened to MIT?! I thought you got in!.” 

“I did. I just...I want to go to NYU.”

“What the hell do you mean you want to go to NYU? What the hell half-assed kind of future can you possibly have with NYU?!”

Peter just laughed, again, and Tony swore his vision blacked out for a half second as his blood pressure shot through the roof at the kid’s careless, damn near stupid laugh. If he hadn’t been so angry, he might have marvelled at how much Peter sounded like his old self in that instant. “Come on, Mr. Stark! Do you have any idea how many options I have at NYU? I can major in almost anything - physics, engineering, pretty much anything you can think of and they’ve got it! I was even thinking about minoring in photography -”

“What could you possibly do with photography?” Tony had sputtered. “And kid, any college in world can teach you physics. Shit, engineering is probably one of the fastest growing career fields right now. MIT would set you so far apart from all those other schools - people see you went to MIT and you’ve got any job you could ever want! And robotics - does NYU offer anything like that?”

“Jeez, I don’t know,” And for the second time Tony could physically feel his blood pressure spike, the way he said it so nonchalantly. “Maybe? Why do I need to take a robotics course anyway? I’ve been following Tony Stark around his private lab for the last two years - like MIT has anything to teach me.”

“You’re not winning brownie points with that,” Tony growled warningly. “What about your friends? Isn’t Ned going?”

“Yeah he is,” Peter said, dipping his head.

“And you don’t want to go with him?”

“I...I kinda want, um, well see the thing is ...MJ and I talked about it and she and I both think it would be better if we both went to NYU instead.”

And that was when Tony officially lost it. The thought that Peter was throwing away his entire future away for a girl sent him so far over the edge he actually blacked out the rest of the argument. But when he finally surfaced again, it was to find himself screaming as Peter went storming off, slamming the door behind him. Later, when he called May, demanding answers, she confirmed everything Peter had told him earlier.

“I don’t know, Tony, he has his heart set on NYU,” She had said, and Tony snarled in response. 

“It’s the girlfriend isn’t it? I thought she got a full ride to Yale?”

“She did. She turned it down.”

“Jesus Christ! Aren’t these goddamn kids supposed to be smart?!”

“She wants to stay in New York. For Peter’s sake.”

“For Peter’s sake?” Tony repeated doubtfully.

“Yeah...Tony...I think she knew he was having a hard time with the idea of giving Spider-Man up, so she suggested they just stay here. So that way…”

“He’s staying so he doesn’t have to give Spider-Man up.” Tony deadpanned. “He’s throwing away one of the best educations in the world so he can run around at night in that overrated ghillie suit getting shot and stabbed and God knows what else -”

“You’re the one who gave him that overrated ghillie suit, Tony,” She had reminded him exasperatedly. “Besides, you know how important it is to him-”

“Yeah, May, believe me, I know, but for fuck’s sake, the whole point of him going to MIT is so he doesn’t have to do this anymore!”

“Like that was ever going to happen. Besides, Tony, he knows we can’t afford to send him to MIT.”

“It’s so nice to know the college savings account I set up for him means so little to you both.” 

“He doesn’t want it, Tony. NYU is offering him a full ride and he wants something that he earned for himself.”

He swore for a good minute straight. “So Peter and MJ both just decided that they didn’t need a free college scholarship from one Tony Stark to go to two of the best colleges in the country to study their passions...and instead are planning to go to a state college so Peter can continue risking his life by night, and studying third rate physics by day?” 

“Pretty much.”

“And you’re just okay with this?”

“Well, I’m not thrilled by it. But this is Peter’s life, Tony. And you and I both know he won’t ever give Spider-Man up. So if this is what’s going to make him happy, then I say, go for it.”

“...I’ll give you five hundred thousand dollars to just tell him no.”

“Yeah, I don’t see that happening anytime soon, cheapskate.” May had told him. “Besides, I’m not the one you need to be convincing here. You want to manipulate Peter into going to MIT? You need to go through MJ.” 

“May, you don’t actually believe that MJ has more power over Peter than you, do you?”

“I would have thought by now you’d know that flattering won’t get you anywhere with me, Stark.” May had growled. “And considering she’s sleeping with him, then, yeah, I’d say MJ has way more influence over Peter than I ever could.” 

“...What?!”

“Oh, come on, Tony, are you really surprised?”

“He’s not-he’s-what-how do you know that?!” He’d demanded. May huffed at him.

“I found condoms in his bedroom the other day, Tony. You’re the genius here, you tell me what that means.”

“Have you met your nephew?” Tony hissed at her, horrified. What she was saying was so ridiculous it bordered on offensive. “The kid with the lego Millenium Falcon on his nightstand? And glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling? He’s not having sex - he’s a baby! Clearly, someone else put them there!” 

May had heaved a sigh, and Tony knew she was rolling her eyes at him. “Tony, which do you think is more likely? Someone planted a pack of condoms in my nephew’s sock drawer hoping I might find them, or that Peter and MJ, two very horny teenagers who have been dating for over a year now, are in love and having sex?”

“Oh, please, as if those two idiots even know what love is!” 

“Tony-.”

“THEY HAVE NO BUSINESS HAVING SEX!”

“Wow, you are really not taking this very well at all, are you?”

“How are you okay with this?!”

“Honestly, I’m just happy they’re being safe.”

“Unbelievable.” Tony spat, disgusted. She was supposed to be on his side. 

“Jesus, Tony, what did you think was going to happen? I mean, have you seen them together?”

“No. And I have no intention to.”

“Well, you might have to one day, Tony. I really think they might get married one day.”

Tony resisted the urge to vomit through the phone line. “That’s great, May. Divorce rates are at an all time high but, hey, it’s not like Peter’s future is on the line.” 

“Oh, for God’s sake, Tony, would you relax? Honestly. It’s not the end of the world. Peter can change his mind at any time. Jesus, and you say he’s a spaz.” 

That had been months ago. And though Tony had begrudgingly apologized to Peter and had given the kid his blessing to attend whatever school he wanted, he still didn’t see him as much as he once did. Between the fast-approaching end of Peter’s high school career, and all the various bullshit that went with it, as well as his acceptance into NYU, and all the various bullshit that went along with that, and every spare minute devoted to Spider-Man or MJ, Tony only saw Peter on occasion, if he was lucky. Most of the time nowadays, he had to rely on text messages and the nightly news to catch up with him. The fact that Peter was here, actually here in front of him, was nothing short of amazing. 

Hesitantly, he reached out and brushed his fingers against Peter’s hair, still slick with sweat. How long has it been since he had seen Peter simply sleeping like this? He honestly couldn’t remember. Greedy, and unable to stop himself, he reached out further, gently touching Peter’s cheek. 

The boy jerked instantly, and Tony snatched his hand back, cursing himself. 

“Whassa’ matt’r?” Peter slurred sitting partially up. Tony reached out again and pushed him down. 

“Jeez, relax, Spazatron. I was just checking on you.”

“Oh, okay...thanks…” Peter muttered vaguely before collapsing back against his pillow. Tony chuckled, his hand finding its way to Peter’s hair again, smiling as his eyes fluttered shut. 

“How was patrol? Catch any bad guys?” 

“Yep. All good.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“‘Course not.”

Tony hummed. He couldn’t trust Peter to tell the truth when it came to injuries if his life depended on it (hell, it had. Multiple times). But he didn’t see any bloodstains on his sheets or clothes, no limbs were locked in strange, limp angles, and he had managed to fall asleep without painkillers. So maybe, just maybe, the kid really was alright after all. 

Or maybe this was Peter and Tony should know better than that by now.

“You sure you’re alright, kid?”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” Peter mumbled back. 

“Excuse you, smart ass, I think I’ve had more faith in you than anyone.” Tony said, rolling his eyes and biting back a smirk. “Haven’t I been your most enthusiastic cheerleader over the last two years?”

“Well, you’ve definitely been the most overbearing one, so congrats on that.”

“Huh, weird. It doesn’t look like you’re bleeding out, which is something, but you’re clearly confused. You didn’t give yourself a concussion did you? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Subtle. Thanks for proving my point, by the way.”

“Not that I’m not glad to be enduring your sass at ‘fuck-this-shit o’clock’, Pete, but any particular reason you’re here and not back home in Queens?” 

“Tired.” Peter told him around a yawn. “Yur places’s clos’r.”

“Ouch. And here I thought it was because you actually missed me. You know what? Just for that, I might demote you back to sleeping on the common room floor with all the other ungrateful pains-in-the-ass. How’s that sound?”

“Pretty awesome, if it means I won't have to listen to you lecturing me all the time.”

Tony chuckled at that, and Peter’s lips quirked briefly in response, but they soon fell silent again. For a few minutes, Tony sat listening to Peter as his breathing slowly deepened, marveling at the various turns had taken to lead him here, to this moment. To have Peter as a part of his life. It was something he thought a lot about, and something that never ceased to amaze him. That there wasn’t anything in the world he’d trade it for - for all the pain, the heartache, and suffering he’d endured along the way, he wouldn’t have it any other way if it got him here. 

Eventually, when it seemed Peter had fallen asleep, Tony slowed eased himself to his feet, shaking his head fondly as he gently dragged the covers further over Peter.

“Good night, squirt.” He whispered. 

“Night, Dad.” 

Tears sprang to Tony’s eyes before he could even properly register what Peter said. He bit his lip, staring at this kid he didn’t deserve and somehow managed to get anyway. This amazing, selfless, incredible kid. 

“Mr. Stark?” 

He blinked, Peter’s somewhat more lucid voice bringing him back to earth. “Yeah, kid?”

“Are you crying?” 

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, forcing himself to smile. “No, buddy. I’m just tired.” 

“Oh.” 

Tony wasn’t sure how long he sat there, stroking Peter’s hair and watching him drift back to sleep,but eventually, when he thought for sure the kid had finally drifted off to sleep, he felt brave enough to say, “I love you, Peter.” 

The response was so soft and slight he almost missed it. “Love you too, Mr. Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, just a few things:  
> 1\. Not my best, I know. But hopefully someone out there liked it and is happy with how it all ended.  
> 2\. Thank you all so much! To everyone who read my stories, left me kudos and comments, you are the best! I can't thank you enough for the support - it meant so much to me!   
> 3\. I will probably be taking a long break from writing anything else for a while. I would eventually like to write some more stories, and maybe branch out into my other fandoms, but for now, I have so little time on my hands, I'm not sure if/when I can.


End file.
